ON THE WATER WITH THE JAZZMAN

ON THE WATER WITH THE JAZZMAN; Running a Tight Ship, Musically and Nautically

By COREY KILGANNON

Published: August 24, 2003

GREENPORT—
SQUINTING first at the horizon and then at his sails, the captain spun the big steering wheel to starboard. His three-masted ship headed downwind as he muttered a Dizzy Gillespie tune to himself.

But the ditty was cut short as the ship's heavy wooden boom hurtled across the deck just overhead. The big white mainsail filled with wind, snapping the lines tight. The ship lurched forward through the whitecaps on Peconic Bay.

''C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, sheet it in!'' the captain yelled to his crew as they scrambled to trim the sails.

The captain is Teddy Charles, now 75, and he runs a tight ship, the same way he used to run his bands. He is considered one of the best vibraphonists in jazz history, a musical pioneer who in the 1940's and 1950's played with the biggest names in jazz: Charlie Parker, Charles Mingus, Miles Davis.

But after a successful 20 years, his jazz career sputtered in the early 1960's, and he decided to indulge his other lifelong love: the sea. In 1966, he turned his back on jazz and left New York to become a charter boat captain in the Caribbean.

Around 1980, he returned back north, settling first on City Island and eventually in Greenport. He began taking tourists on day sails on the bay in his historic 75-foot clipper schooner, the Mary E, built in 1905.

On a recent Sunday afternoon, Mr. Charles looked smart in his beige linen trousers, blue oxford shirt and tassel loafers. The hands that once wielded hot mallets, now tanned and tough, jumped quickly from wheel to cleat to line. He barked his rapid-fire commands to his two crewmen, Jim Europe, 20, of Southold and Mike Sautkulis, 21, of Shirley.

Below deck, a sign on the wooden mast lists the rules of the ship and adds: ''By order of the Captain, this vessel is a zero tolerance ship.''

Mr. Charles, whose full name is Theodore Charles Cohen, was born in 1928 in Chicopee Falls, Mass. As a teenager he enjoyed sailing and listening to the big bands as well as modern classical composers: Duke Ellington and Benny Goodman, Shostakovich and Stravinsky.

He would take the train from Chicopee Falls to Manhattan to listen to music and to buy jazz records. At the Commodore Records shop on 42nd Street he first heard the pioneering bebop recordings of Parker and Gillespie. He moved to New York in 1946 to study at the Juilliard School, but he quickly found another classroom in the jazz clubs of 52nd Street.

''I'd study and practice all day at Juilliard and then listen, or sit in, on 52nd Street,'' Mr. Charles said.

One night, he was asked to fill in for a tardy Thelonious Monk, who was appearing with Coleman Hawkins's group. This was his breakthrough as professional musician, and by age 18, he was playing jam sessions regularly, on both drums and vibes.

His sailing career evolved as bit more slowly. In the late 50's, he took up scuba diving -- ''Cold water cures hangovers,'' he explained. He had first learned to sail as a boy, and to travel to good diving spots, he bought a sailboat to get there.

''I tried sailing to the Newport Jazz Festival in 1959, but the wind died, and I wound up missing the gig altogether,'' he recalled.

In the early 1960's, his jazz bookings began drying up, so Mr. Charles ran more charters, taking groups to Martha's Vineyard and Nantucket. ''It was embarrassing to do, when I was a better musician,'' he said. ''But I took the bread. I wasn't going to sit there and starve.''

Mr. Charles also began working as a studio musician, backing up singers like Aretha Franklin and Bobby Vinton. ''Then one day, I was playing behind Paul Revere and the Raiders,'' he recalled. ''We couldn't believe these guys were making all this money while great jazz musicians couldn't pay their rent. I was frustrated. I told them, 'Don't call me again,' and they didn't.''

In 1964, Mr. Charles got married, and he and his wife, Diana, moved to a house on City Island. The marriage did not last, and Mr. Charles decided to take his schooner down to the eastern Caribbean.

It was not a matter of leaving jazz. ''Jazz left me,'' he said. His vibes stayed in New York, and he lived below decks. In port, he would look for a piano or church organ to play. Sometimes, there would be a jazz club with a set of vibes. In Grenada he would jam with the steel drummers there.

Mr. Charles's exile ended in 1979, when he was working with a clarinetist at a yacht club in Antigua. As he remembers it: ''My playing had gotten so bad, I had an epiphany. I said, 'I got to get back to New York.'''

By 1980, he was playing the Village Gate regularly and producing records with Teo Macero, all while operating a marina he bought on City Island.

Lonesome for the sea again, Mr. Charles moved out to Greenport in 1987, hoping to run charters and open a jazz club. ''Then I realized the difference between the Hamptons and the North Fork,'' he said.

He rehearses a small band of local musicians at his house once a week and plays the local pubs occasionally. His charters continue through the end of October. By early November, he sails down to Key West, Fla., to run charters and play the jazz clubs there.

Recently, Mr. Charles spent a Saturday running three daytime cruises on the Mary E and then playing for four hours at a local bar, the Blue Dolphin. ''At 75 years old, how much longer can I do this?'' he said. ''It may be my last trip this year. If had a buyer, I'd sell it in 10 minutes and get back to my serious music writing.''

He steered the Mary E by the Greenport docks where Cigarette boats and Jet Skis buzzed the piers and a reggae cover band played loudly in a packed waterfront bar.

''Ah, there's a chance to hear some genuine imitation -- what do they call it again?'' he said.

He expounded on the parallels between skippering a ship and leading a band. ''In both activities, there's only the truth,'' he explained. ''If you're on the sea, you have your own vessel that only you put together, your own crew. You work with the sea, or you lose. It's the same thing in art, not just jazz. There's no way you can fake it. If you fake it, it's going show. That's been my guiding thing.''

It was time for another tack, and Mr. Charles muttered another tune to himself. ''In E-flat,'' he said, spinning the wheel again. ''Ready? '52nd Street Theme.' 1-2-3-4.''

Photos: Teddy Charles at the helm of the Mary E, his 75-foot clipper schooner that takes tourists on sails out of Greenport. In the 40's and 50's, he played vibes with the biggest names in jazz. Mr. Charles, top left, in 1981. (Photos by Deirdre Brennan for The New York Times; top left, Penny Coleman)